


having known her

by evevill



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, god what if they actually fucked in season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:08:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22593796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evevill/pseuds/evevill
Summary: They’ve been secretly fucking for six months now. Which makes it a year since Rome.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 19
Kudos: 299





	having known her

_“Are you two in a relationship?”_

_“Define relationship.”_

_“Are you having sex?”_

_“No.”_

The light knock on Eve’s front door would have been missed if Eve hadn’t been specifically listening for it. Night had fallen, the street was quiet, and her hope that Villanelle would visit kept Eve pacing her kitchen floor.

It had been two weeks since she last saw her, Villanelle had slipped from Eve’s bed quietly at dawn with a note that read _Till next time x_ , and Eve, despite her efforts, ached for her.

Eve scrambled to reach the door and opened it to find Villanelle standing, a smirk on her face and a faint bruise by her eye.

Villanelle stepped inside and greeted Eve with a kiss slow and deep. She whispers “hi baby” against Eve’s lips, which is technically two more words spoken by Villanelle than the last time the two were together (not counting breathy moans and demands) and Eve takes this as an opportunity.

“Where have you been?” It’s hopeful and fruitless.

Villanelle chuckles, “Now, Eve I won’t be doing your job for you.”

“You know that’s not why I ask.”

Technically, Villanelle is justified in her statement. Eve is meant to be looking for her, and she certainly put her best effort into finding Villanelle and attaching meaning to her kills during work hours, as Carolyn was so gracious to keep her employed and protected.

But when she’s in Eve’s house, those walls come down and Villanelle is not a Russian assassin, on the run from the Twelve and possibly hired by an entirely new and frightening organization, she’s Eve’s lover.

Lover. The word is both sweet and sickly in Eve’s mind. But there is no other word Eve feels fits.

They’ve been secretly fucking for six months now. Which makes it a year since Rome. Most times, especially at first, the sex was laced with hate, anger, and all their unspoken wounds. Both wanted each other, but the history between the two left the air thick with tension.

Now, it’s easier, but not any less intense. Eve leads Villanelle up to her bedroom and starts to undress her. Villanelle reciprocates by sucking on Eve’s earlobe. Once Eve has got her down to her underwear, it’s quick after that. It’s been too long for both of them, and they are equally needy.

Afterwards, they are pressed together in bed. Sweaty, sated, each using a hand to hold the others and intertwining their fingers. Occasionally, and more and more frequently, Eve and Villanelle have both allowed each other to express such tenderness.

“Are you happy right now?” Eve asks.

“Very much so.”

“Tell me something about you that I don’t know.”

“You know all there is to me, now” Villanelle holds Eve’s gaze.

It’s both a true and untrue statement. Eve knows her body, now, every inch of it. But rarely gets glimpses of her past or tidbits of her present.

-

6 months previous

Eve is sitting in her room, a room she is renting from an elder Korean couple on the outskirts of London. She’s been through hell and back, and yet, here she sits in solitude, longing for Villanelle.

She must have fully lost herself, to still want her. Worry about her. Think of her in both casual and intimate ways.

She remembers the psychiatrist, Martin. He saw her for who she really was.

He’d picked her apart and gotten to the root of her life in mere seconds. No, she wasn’t having sex with her, yes her husband had left her, yes she felt so unlike herself but more alive than ever before.

It was only days later that Villanelle was in her ear, moaning and touching herself. Letting Eve know how wet she was for her, how much she wanted her, and Eve had come undone at the mere sound of her voice and gasps.

That night, Eve had lived in a fantasy world. She knew at that point if she and Villanelle made it safely through their mission with Aaron Peel, they would have sex. It felt completely inevitable.

What Eve hadn’t anticipated was the gunshot. The blood. Her near-death experience. All moments after Villanelle had confessed her love, after Eve had felt the nausea of being manipulated, both with the blood on their face, their cheeks, and their hands.

They had taken a life together, even if Villanelle had moved on with the fake comfort of knowing Eve was dead and the freedom to continue her careless life, Eve, for however long she lived on this Earth, would always be tethered to the woman she had killed with.

Now Eve is in this shitty room, depressed and lonely, sitting with the misfortune of having known Villanelle.

It’s here, after a particularly gruesome shift at her restaurant job, that Carolyn comes for her.

-

Eve’s walking out of the restaurant, desperate to strip from her apron and hairnet, when she spots Carolyn across the street. She’s as poised as ever, unfeathered and headstrong.

The two meet eyes, and Eve turns her back to her and pulls out a cigarette. She had promised herself not to get involved again. To stay away.

Carolyn crosses the street. She approaches Eve, watches as she takes a few puffs of smoke, and calmly says, “She thinks you're dead.”

Eve feels a boil of anger rise rapidly within. How dare she immediately bring her up. Months, she’s heard nothing from no one, and this is her old boss’ hello?

“Fuck off. I don’t care”

“She thinks you're dead, and we would very much like to keep it that way. But you cannot go on like this. It’s too dangerous.”

Eve scoffs, “Why would you care about me?”

“Well, I certainly don’t care all that much. You’ve run off, abandoned the team. Hugo’s dead, by the way. But,” she pauses, “I do feel as if I owe you something. We did not leave off on the right foot the last time we spoke. And I have to let you know, you won’t be safe here for much longer.”

Eve’s stomach drops at the news Hugo is dead, the guilt she’s repressed for so long bubbling to the surface. She clears her throat.

“What do you want me to do?”

-

The first time they fucked was the very first time they saw each other after Rome.

Granted, it was months after, but it still embarrasses Eve that she had such little resolve when it came to Villanelle.

It’s at an MI6 provided flat that Carolyn moves Eve too (and she swears its safe) that she comes for her.

Eve can’t help but think Carolyn must have purposefully set this up. Villanelle didn’t find her (or wasn’t looking) for months while Eve worked at the restaurant. It’s only been two weeks when she’s knocking at her MI6-provided-door.

“Eve,” she says with that sweet lilt in her voice. Eve stares and stares.

She says it again “Eve.” Villanelle just looks at her. They both seem to be in disbelief that they’re in the presence of each other. “Konstantin told me you were… that this is where they placed you. He told me not to come. I didn’t listen.”

Eve doesn’t respond. She turns to walk towards the kitchen. She doesn’t attempt to close the front door and chooses to let Villanelle decide whether she wants to come in or not.

Of course, she comes in. Villanelle closes the door behind her and follows Eve to the kitchen.

Eve feels awkward. She doesn’t know what to say. She realizes right then that she’s not all that angry with Villanelle. They’re even now. She knows that’s how Villanelle has rationalized it that way, and, unknowingly, so had she.

They both sit across from each other at the small kitchen table.

“You look good” Villanelle offers.

“Well, the whole ‘not dead’ thing helps.”

“Yes,” she nods, sincerely, “it does.”

They stare at each other.

“I’m happy you’re not dead,” Villanelle says.

“Really? Why is that?”

“The past few months have been…. horrible,” she says it with such conviction that, despite everything, Eve believes it.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Why talk?” Villanelle asks. Eve feels her cheeks burn.

Eve suddenly feels compelled to get up to do some meaningless task. If she didn’t organize the junk mail on the counter right this instance the world might explode.

“How much have you thought about me?” Villanelle says while Eve is turned away from her.

“Every day” is Eve’s automatic response, feeling bolder now that she doesn’t have to look her in the eye.

Plus, there’s no use lying.

“This is the third time we’ve found each other again. Can we skip the part where we pretend we’re angry about it?”

Eve turns around. Villanelle is standing up too, but she’s made no effort to walk closer to Eve.

Eve steps towards her.

She really takes a good look at Villanelle’s face. She looks older now, has lived more life, then the first time they properly met in her home. Perhaps there’s a maturity about her, but that might just be wishful thinking.

Eve’s hand, just as it once had a year before, comes up to caress Villanelle’s cheek. There’s an unbelievable softness to it, but instead of pulling away like last time, Villanelle leans into it. Let’s her cheek rest on Eve’s hand.

Eve’s other hand moves, determined, to Villanelle’s side. She untucks Villanelle’s shirt from her pants and lets her hand slowly slide up naked skin.

She looks to Villanelle for any resistance and finds none. Only her hooded eyes, swimming with emotion.

Eve finds it. The scar she left her.

Her thumb drags over the line.

Villanelle exhales and takes her own hand up to the rim of Eve’s sweater. She pushes her way up and finds Eve’s scar.

And then they’re both standing there, feeling each other’s skin, and what they’ve done to each other, breathing together.

Eve lets her hand on Villanelle’s cheek drop to her shoulder.

“Did it take long?” Villanelle whispers, “to heal?”

“Not so bad,” Eve says, “small surgery. I was up and walking soon after. Lost a lot of blood, though.”

“You could have been with me instead.”

“You could have shot him instead.”

Eve doesn’t feel like talking anymore. What’s the use of bringing up the past, when they’re here, finally, with their hands on each other.

She instead pulls her close. Brings her lips close to Villanelle, brushes her bottom lip, and Villanelle’s breath hitches.

She waits, waits for Villanelle to close the kiss.

“I’ve tried twice already. You do it.”

And fuck it, Eve pushes forward, and finally, finally, finally their lips meet.

It’s heated. Eve is licking into her mouth, desperate for her. Desperate for her kisses and her hands bunch Villanelle’s shirt.

“Please let me fuck you” Villanelle pants into her mouth.

“Yes, God, yes.”

They’re in the bedroom, touching each other with such enthusiasm and desperation. Eve’s fingers are inside her, Eve’s tongue is inside her, their moans mix, their pleas intertwine. Then, Villanelle is suddenly everywhere, and Eve is clutching to her. Their wetness on each other’s mouths, fingers, and tongues. The taste of it is so unique to Eve, so different, so intoxicating.

Hours later, Villanelle is dressing again, not saying anything. Eve is watching her, boneless on the bed.

Villanelle gives her a glance, and a “see you later” and Eve doesn’t know what that means.

-

Turns out, it means that Villanelle will come round to Eve’s house every 1 to 2 weeks, desperate for her sex.

They don’t talk about Rome. It’s an unspoken agreement. They don’t talk about Paris either. Both know the other is too proud to admit any fault. Villanelle seems to not want to bring up Rome in order not to piss Eve off, in fear that she might put a stop to what they do. Eve is just too exhausted and needy to try and even attempt to rationalize their current or past actions.

At first, Villanelle never slept over. She would fuck Eve until she couldn’t move and then leave. There was usually very little talking except for their moans. But as a few weeks turned into two months, Eve felt herself begin to soften for her outside their passion.

“It’s late” Eve had told her after Villanelle had returned from the bathroom, walking back to the bed, completely nude.

“Only just past midnight” she had responded.

“Stay. If you want”

From then on, she usually stayed. Sometimes slipping out in the wee hours of the early morning, other times staying in bed, not stirring until Eve was leaving for work.

There were nights when Eve would startle awake and look to see Villanelle just staring at her. Eve would catch a glimpse at the clock and see it was nearly 3 am.

“Can’t sleep?” Eve would ask.

Villanelle wouldn’t respond and just move to softly kiss her. Their breath would mix, their hands would grab, and their kisses would be soft and intimate. Eve justifies the gentleness due to the hour of the night, their tiredness mixing with their want.

Villanelle would sneak her hand into Eve’s underwear and tentatively feel her. Villanelle moaned at the wetness but made no moves to push further.

She liked to wait for Eve to thrust her hips, to moan out loud, to ask for more.

“Touch me”

“Like that?” She dips her fingers lower.

“Yes, baby. So good. Just like that.”

Eve moves her hand into Villanelle’s boy shorts. She so easily slips inside. They are working each other in tandem. When they come, it's together. Villanelle takes Eve’s hands out of her own shorts and licks the fingers clean.

Eve can’t stop staring at her. She thinks she’d die if this were to ever stop.

-

Three months in.

Eve is fucking Villanelle with her hand and kissing her on the mouth. Deep thrusts with her tongue in Villanelle’s mouth while her thumb circles her clit.

She pauses her kisses, but keeps her hand down there firm, and whispers, “Were there other women? When we were apart?”

“Yes” she whispers back.

Eve curls her fingers, Villanelle lets out a gasp.

“How many?”

“A few”

“Any of them more than once?”

Villanelle whimpers again, thrusts her hips up to get Eve to rub harder, move faster.

“One girl. We were together many times.” Villanelle takes her hand to bring Eve’s lips to hers again. “She called me her girlfriend.”

Eve moves her lips to Villanelle’s lips and starts leaving little bite marks across her neck. Wanting to leave marks.

If Villanelle fucks someone else when she leaves next, the woman would know Eve had been there first and got to possess her like this.

She speeds up her movements. Her thumb circling her clit, her fingers moving sloppily in and out as her entire hand gets covered in Villanelle’s want. “And did you think of me? When she fucked you?”

Villanelle doesn’t respond right away, trying hard to come. But she knows Eve won’t give her that final hard curl, that final rub, until she answers.

“I tried not to . . . but every time I was close… I thought of you.”

Eve moans at that, moves her hand in a way that she knows will make Villanelle come, and whispers “Good girl” right in her ear and Villanelle is thrusting and moaning and coming and Eve has never loved a sight or sound more than that.  
-

Sometimes Villanelle liked to draw it out. She lies Eve on her back and slips two fingers inside, pumping her slowly until Eve’s cheeks color with crimson. Eve’s pretty sure other couples, normal ones, would call it making love.

It was here that Villanelle likes to press into Eve’s ear and whisper “I love you.” Eve’s not sure if she means it or is just doing it to remind Eve of their past. Of the mere moments before Eve almost lost her life.

Eve never acknowledged the confession with a verbal response, but Villanelle could probably feel it in her movements. Eve’s hips would thrust harder, she’d clench around her fingers, and her head would turn to the side and Villanelle would watch the blush rise through her whole chest.

Villanelle would lean down suck on Eve’s earlobe and whisper it, hot and heavy, again in her ear, “I love you.”

Eve would come, hard, and VIllanelle would stroke her through it. Pressing gentle kisses to her. Whispering in many languages all the different ways to say I love you.

-

Eve hasn’t seen her in three weeks. She feels like dying. It’s unbearable the wait. Her days without her are filled with the stress of her job, the constant threat of danger, and the overwhelming worry that Villanelle isn’t okay.

It’s crazy to think that Villanelle has become someone she trusts. Carolyn? Never. Niko- well Eve never heard from him again after Rome, put into witness protection, and she didn’t seek him out. Kenny kept it strictly professional, feeling hurt after all Eve had done to hurt him, and everyone else had long ago abandoned the team or died.

That’s why this time when Villanelle comes to her door, completely panicked, and begs her to run away with her Eve doesn’t hesitate. Villanelle says there is no other option. That Eve can only ever be safe if she follows Villanelle, and Eve believes her.

It’s funny, really, that Villanelle looks just as manic as when she was in Rome. Hell, there’s blood on her cheek just like Rome, too.

But this time when she leans for a kiss, to reassure Eve, Eve easily accepts it. Knows it well, by now.

“Let me pack a bag.”

Villanelle releases all the tension in her body at once. Sighs with relief, and seems almost teary-eyed with the confirmation.

“Thank you.”

It’s been so long since Rome, and even longer since Paris, and everything- everything- has changed, but Eve steps out with Villanelle and all she can think is that this, this life, was the one that has always been waiting for her.

**Author's Note:**

> 🤠


End file.
